


The Stray

by jeahtastic, pineapplebreads, writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Tension, accidental animagus!Credence, graves shushing during sex, there's a collar with a bell involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeahtastic/pseuds/jeahtastic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/pseuds/pineapplebreads, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Graves never had an affinity for animals, having spent the last two decades living in a city where the only wildlife consisted of pigeons and the occasional owl. And memo rats, if that counted. But to see a pitiful little creature like this get abused, well, it stirred up a protective instinct he didn’t know he had in him.In which Graves accidentally adopts a stray cat and wakes up to a boy in his bed instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by im-still-in-this-plateau 's lovely art [here](http://im-still-in-this-plateau.tumblr.com/post/157773544518/20170226-feb22-is-known-as-cats-day-in-japan) and [here](http://im-still-in-this-plateau.tumblr.com/post/158107419983/20170307-after-posted-this-i-have-noticed-that) , as well as granpappy-winchester 's tags [here](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/157789007496/im-still-in-this-plateau20170226-feb22-is-known)
> 
> A collab fic between three kitty loving fucks. <3 All chapters will be posted simultaneously.

 

The defense wards of MACUSA were designed to prevent direct apparition within its walls. It was a hassle on a good day, but a downright nuisance on a night like this.

Once again Graves had been the last one left in the office, opting to take his dinner by his desk. It wasn’t as if he had someone waiting on him at home, so he might as well finish his work.

It was a common enough occurrence and yet, Graves found himself bothered by it tonight, an unsettled feeling in his chest. Maybe it was the crummy weather souring his mood.

A subtle water-repellent charm kept him dry, but he held a No-Maj umbrella for appearances as he exited the building. The streets were devoid of foot traffic for once, due to the late hour and the awful downpour, sheets of rain blown sideways by the strong winds.

He ducked into the nearest alleyway, closing his umbrella after a quick glance around. Wand in hand, he was ready to apparate home when a loud crash sounded behind him. He whipped around.

It was a trash can falling over, metal clanging against the cobblestones. He would’ve attributed it to the wind if it were not for the acrid scent that suddenly flooded the air, bitter and sharp. Like something burning. The hairs rising on the back of his neck told him it was magic.

The inside of his nose stung with it as he crept closer, wand at his side.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

With a wave of his hand, he swept the trash can to the side, spilling its contents across the ground. A black shape darted out, half-hidden amongst the garbage. It was quick, but Graves was quicker, freezing it with a flick of his wand.

It struggled about two feet in the air, a tangled ball of black. Graves crouched down to study it at eye level and nearly laughed at the sight.

The beast was only a cat, dark fur matted down from the rain, eyes rolling in fear. Whatever was the source of that smell, it couldn’t have been from this little thing.

Graves was about to release it when he noticed the deep cuts in its back, flashes of exposed flesh as it flailed.

The wounds didn’t appear to be inflicted by another animal, too uniform, too clean. Graves could only guess at what this unlucky creature had been subjected to, but it probably involved a bored neighborhood boy, armed with nothing but a razor blade and a streak of cruelty.       

The cat let out a pitiful squeak, paws hanging limply in the air as it gave up the fight. Its pale eyes stared mournfully at Graves, tail wrapped tight around its body.

“Shh, shh,” Graves soothed, reaching out slowly. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

He stroked a finger over its damp head, watching as it blinked up at him. Its eyes were the lightest blue he'd ever seen, almost milky white in appearance.

God, what was he doing? He didn’t have time for this. He should’ve been home by now, not squatting in a dirty alley, playing with a stray.

As if hearing his thoughts, the cat gave another mewl, paws scrambling for purchase. On second look, the cat was barely older than a kitten, veering on the small and scrawny side. It was a survivor but with those types of injuries, how much longer was it going to last?

With a sigh, Graves tilted his head at it. “What are we gonna do with you, hm?”

He scratched under its chin, smiling as it leaned into his touch. He wasn’t expecting an answer but in a way, he got one.

Holding out a hand, Graves released the spell. The cat fell into his palm, belly on his wrist, back legs spilling over his arm. He tucked it against his chest, mindful of its wounds, and murmured, “Hold on.”

A silent whoosh of air later and the alleyway was empty once more, save for the umbrella abandoned in a puddle.

 

* * *

 

Graves didn’t have the faintest idea about pet care, never having owned more than an owl who accepted the occasional treat from him, but otherwise preferred to be left alone.

The cat looked small and fragile, settled in front of the roaring fire, wrapped up in a few towels he had summoned from the bathroom. It peered up at him from within the folds of fabric, half-hidden and shivering.

Knees sinking into the plush carpet, Graves got down to eye-level, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Hey there,” he murmured.

The cat shrank back, wary but not yet bolting.

Graves sighed, sitting back on his haunches. Crouching on the floor like this was not doing his aching back any favors.

He had thrown his coat on the armchair by the hearth, and now his jacket and tie followed suit. As he rolled up his shirt sleeves he noticed the cat staring at his every move, only to suddenly turn away, as if embarrassed at having been caught. _Prideful little thing,_ Graves thought.

He bent down low again, speaking softly, “Here, Kitty. Lemme take a look at you.”

The cat’s eyes darted around as if searching for an exit.

“Come on, sweetie. I won’t hurt you, promise.” Graves would be more embarrassed about essentially pleading with an animal if he weren’t alone in his apartment. As it stood, he might as well go all out and start bargaining. “I just wanna take a look at your back. Just for a second. Then you can go. Is that okay?”

Of course the cat didn’t reply, but it did stop to stare up at Graves with its pale eyes, made orange by the reflected glow of the fireplace.  

Graves reached out slowly, waiting for an explosive flailing of claws and teeth that never came as he plucked the black ball of fur from its nest of towels. He set the cat down in his lap, prodding with gentle fingers along its marred back.

Its fur was mostly dry now, saved for the edges of its wounds, matted down with caked blood. Graves tsked at the sight, summoning a hot, damp washcloth from the bathroom, as well as a healing salve from the medicine cabinet.

He might not know much about pet care but he was familiar enough with dressing wounds. Hopefully what worked for humans applied to felines, too.

Soft mewls escaped from the cat as Graves wiped around the cuts. “Shh, shh,” he soothed, brushing a thumb over one pointed ear. The salve was creamy in texture and stayed in place as he smeared it liberally across the red gashes.

Graves never had an affinity for animals, having spent the last two decades after school living in a city where the only wildlife consisted of pigeons and the occasional owl. And memo rats, if that counted. But to see a pitiful little creature like this get abused, well, it stirred up a protective instinct he didn’t know he had in him.  

He returned from the kitchen with a saucer of milk, setting it on the carpet next to the bundle of towels. “Well? Go on.”

Hunched low to the ground, the cat glanced between the saucer and Graves.

“You want it warm, is that it?” He flicked a hand over the milk and then dipped a finger in it, bringing it to his mouth. “Mm, it’s not too hot. I think.”

He pushed it towards the cat, who crawled an inch closer, hovering over the saucer.

“Come on, I don’t got all night,” Graves drawled.

Finally, the cat lowered its head, tongue darting out to lap delicately at the milk. Graves couldn’t resist brushing fingers over its head, stroking the soft fur.

Soon it finished every drop, the last of it dripping from its whiskers. Graves used a corner of a towel to wipe off the excess as the cat gave a wide yawn. Alright, so the thing was kinda cute, he had to admit.

A low rumble sounded, not quite a purr as the cat’s eyelids started drooping with sleep. Graves stayed for several more minutes, smoothing back velvety ears until it drifted off, tucked amongst the towels.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Graves wasn’t surprised to see the spot in front of the fireplace empty. A cool breeze drifted in from the kitchen window, opened just a crack, just wide enough for a small stray to slip out.

With a snort, Graves pulled it closed and went about the rest of his morning ritual.

But despite himself, for the next few nights Graves found himself lingering in the alleyway by the Woolworth Building after work, listening for a telltale mewl or the scurrying of paws. Each night, he apparated home alone.

After a week, he had nearly put the whole incident behind him. He wasn’t in the market for a pet, anyway. Besides, Percival Graves wasn’t the type of soft hearted men to take in strays.

He was still trying to convince himself of this when, settled in front of the fire in his robes and with a tumbler of whiskey, there came a sound. It was so soft that Graves thought he was imagining it at first, but there it was again. Claws on glass.

He didn’t exactly scramble to the kitchen, but it was a near thing.

“Look who decided to grace us with its presence,” he scolded as he lifted the window opened.

A familiar, slender form slinked its way through the gap, but lost all its grace once over the window sill, tumbling onto the kitchen counter. It left small, red pawprints on the white surface and didn’t take more than a few steps before collapsing onto its side.

“You’re hurt again,” Graves frowned. It was worse this time, the cat’s front paws as well as its back were torn up, bleeding sluggishly.

Like last time, Graves cleaned up around the wounds, gently wiping away the dirt and sticky blood from its fur with a damp cloth. He did this on the kitchen counter, where the cat lied immobile, breaths coming quick and shallow.

“Who keeps doing this to you?” Graves kept his voice low, talking to fill the silence and hopefully soothe the creature’s nerves. His annoyance (mostly at himself for getting so attached) all but dissipated at the sad sight in front of him. “You can’t be getting into this many fights. Or maybe you’re just unlucky.”

After he applied the healing ointment, Graves carefully lifted the cat, towels and all, and set it on his favorite armchair next to the hearth.

“You hungry?” He was crouched down at eye-level, nearly nose to nose with the cat, who gave a meek meow. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Graves made a mental note to purchase some cat food as he peered into his icebox, which didn’t even contain milk this time. After a quick search, his gaze landed on his leftover dinner still on the counter.

“Who doesn’t like baked ham, right?” he asked as he kneeled in front of the armchair, plate of food on the floor next to him. He ripped off a small piece and held it out, expecting the usual hesitancy. “I’m not sure if--”

Graves paused as the meat was all but yanked from his fingers, devoured eagerly between sharp, little teeth.

The rest of the leftovers was finished in the same way, each bite painstakingly hand fed. Graves found that he didn’t mind.

Once sated, Kitty yawned, flexing its paws a bit before the pull on its wounds made it mewl in pain.

Graves tsked in sympathy, stroking its head with careful fingers. His large palm dwarfed its skull as he cradled it, rubbing his thumb against a soft, whiskered cheek. “Sleepy, hm?”

He received a low purr in response, as well as a nuzzle against his hand.

“Come on, then,” he got off his knees with a groan, scooping up the cat, towels and all. “You’re with me tonight. Need to keep an eye on those paws.”

Kitty seemed even smaller on the bed, curled up neatly on one of Graves’ pillow. Its ears swiveled back and forth as its pale eyes darted around the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave the door open,” Graves reassured as he slid off his robes. He kept his undershirt on but stripped down to his boxers before slipping under the covers. “I know how you like your disappearing act.”

With a wave, the lights flickered off. In the darkness, Graves couldn’t see the cat at all, even though it was only inches away. He reached out until he felt soft fur and the curve of an ear, petting the little creature until the tension drained from its frame, its breathing evening out.

Graves drifted off with his arm stretched out to the other pillow.

 

* * *

 

As expected, he woke up alone. His gaze kept returning to the opened kitchen window as he made breakfast, waging an internal war with himself right up until he headed for the door.

At the last minute, he decided to leave the window cracked a sliver. For the air circulation. Of course.

On his way home after work, he took a slight detour from his usual beeline to the nearest alleyway, stopping by a nearby No-Maj market. He had to pick up some essentials anyway and while he was there, he might as well grab a few cans of cat food. No big deal.

Arms ladened with full shopping bags, he apparated home to an empty apartment, which he half anticipated. Kitty was free to come and go as it pleased, so they weren’t exactly keeping a schedule.

Unworried, he began to prepare dinner, although he did double-check to make sure the window was still opened.

It wasn’t until he was sitting down with his meal that he saw a black blur at the corner of his eye. By the time he’d turned to look, the little cat was already winding its way around his legs, blinking up at him.

“You’re back,” Graves didn’t try to hide the fondness in his voice as he bent to pick Kitty up. He held it outstretched in the air for a minute, letting it dangle in his hands. “And you’re a boy, apparently.”

Kitty let out a meow of what Graves would’ve called embarrassment, if cats were capable of such a sentiment.

He plopped the creature in his lap, running fingers through sleek fur. The wounds were already closed up and looking much better thanks to the ointment. Graves hummed in approval, “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

The cat stood on his hind legs, paws on Graves’ chest as he rubbed his face against the underside of Graves’ chin, purring hard enough for Graves to feel it.

Just this once, Graves decided to indulge in the display of affection, unashamedly nuzzling back. “Good kitty,” he murmured into fur. “Are you hungry?”

He carried the cat, still purring against his chest, into the kitchen where he pulled out a can of food from a cabinet. As he went about opening it and scooping its contents onto a plate, Kitty watched from the counter, a curious tilt to his head.

“Alright,” Graves nudged the plate towards him. “Try that.”

But Kitty only tilted his head some more, giving the wet, brown slop a sniff before wrinkling his nose, backing away.

“Huh,” Graves read the can’s label again, glancing between it and the food. “You know, it was pretty expensive. That means it’s good, right?”

In answer, the cat leaped off the counter, padding his way back into the dining room where Graves found him on a chair, peering at the human dinner on the table.

“Should’ve never fed you that ham,” Graves grumbled. Nevertheless, he lifted Kitty into his lap as he sat down and began shredding apart his chicken breast. He hid a smile as the morsel was picked off from between his fingers, disappearing into a hungry little mouth.

 

* * *

 

The cat started showing up more often after that, conveniently around dinner time most nights. As the cans of cat food sat abandoned in the pantry, a part of Graves was slightly concerned about feeding his cat only human food, but he figured it had to be better than whatever was scavenged from the trash.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he started thinking of the cat as _his_. Maybe it was around the time he came to expect pale eyes studying him as he waved his wand, floating ingredients together to make a meal. When he looked forward to the warm lump in his lap as he read The New York Ghost, paws swatting at the moving images with curiosity.

Or maybe it was when he contemplated shutting the kitchen window, keeping Kitty inside where it was safe, imagining what it’d be like to fall asleep to the soft rumble of purrs.

“Where do you go?” he asked one evening, leaning against the counter.

The cat paused at the sound of his voice, one paw already on the sill, ready to slip out onto the fire escape. He looked back, tail swishing, and Graves could’ve sworn he was about to speak, as ridiculous as that notion was.

But then Kitty just meowed, almost apologetically, before disappearing into the night as always.

 

* * *

 

Cats should have no concept of the days of the week, yet Graves’ cat seemed to understand them just fine. He knew when to show up in the evenings when Graves got home from work, and when to show up in the mornings on Graves’ days off. Sometimes he would even serve as Graves’ alarm clock, sharp little claws scaling Graves’ slumbering form until he could rub his face against a scruffy jaw.

It was a Sunday and Graves was just hovering an egg over the pan, wand arm raised, when Kitty ducked through the cracked window.

“Morning,” he greeted in his gravelly, pre-coffee voice. The cat was already climbing onto his shoulders, a favorite perch from which to watch him cook. He reached up a hand, absentmindedly scratching under a furry chin.

Afterwards, as Kitty scarfed down a plate of cut up sausage on the counter, Graves wondered out loud, “You’re pretty clean for a stray, hm?”

The cat swallowed around a rather large bite, slowly picking up his head to gaze at Graves.

“Bit on the skinny side but you’re already filling out,” he mumbled to himself, brushing a hand over an indeed fattening flank. “And look at those eyes.”

Pale blue, almost milky white irises blinked up at him, a stark contrast to the dark fur around them.

“Pretty little thing like you. Why hasn’t someone picked you up yet?” Graves raised a brow. “Unless you already have an owner.”

Seeming to startle at his words, Kitty meowed loudly, food forgotten as he stepped to the edge of the counter, rubbing against any part of Graves he could reach.

Helpless to resist, Graves opened his arms, letting himself get covered in fur, “Don’t worry, I’m not throwing you out, you little beast.”

The cat purred, pressing a warm nose into Graves’ neck.

“Although if you do have an owner, they’re not taking proper care of you,” he frowned.

Not that he was an expert pet-owner, but it still irked him that there might be someone out there whose incompetence was causing an innocent animal to come to harm.

With a final pat, Graves extracted himself from the tangle of paws and fur. “I have an idea.”

He made his way to the bedroom, knowing Kitty will follow without looking back. Sure enough, by the time he finished digging through his closet and found what he was looking for, the cat was perched daintily on the edge of his bed.

Curious eyes tracked his every move as he turned around with an old belt in hand. Suddenly, Kitty issued a soft hiss, ears flattening.

“Shh, shh,” Graves threaded the ends of the belt together to form a loop. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat now.”

Grabbing his wand off the nightstand, Graves waved it at the piece of leather, shrinking it to fit in the palm of his hand. As an afterthought, he muttered another incantation and a small, silver bell popped onto the front.

He kneeled by the bed, waiting patiently as Kitty nosed at the foreign object. The bell jingled as Graves fastened it around his cat’s neck. He slipped a finger under the worn, brown leather to make sure it wasn’t too snug, although the transfiguration should allow it to stretch to accommodate any size.

Sitting back on his haunches, Graves smiled at the sight. “Now you’re even prettier.”

 _Mwwrfff_ , his cat chirped in reply, which Graves took as agreement.

  
He pressed a kiss onto the top of a fluffy head, getting mostly fur in his mouth for the effort.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an equal effort as well. AO3 just won't let me add ppl ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

 

It was a tuesday when Graves returned to an empty apartment which was not unusual in and of itself, except that it was the third night in a row since he’d last seen Kitty.

After dinner, he paced by the kitchen window for a few minutes, arms crossed tightly. When his cat still failed to show up, he shook his head, retiring to the living room where he determinedly did not wonder about the whereabouts of his not-pet. Just because Graves slapped a collar on him didn’t make him domesticated.

Once a stray, always a stray. His cat was probably considered half-feral, since he spent the majority of the day prowling the streets, doing god knows what. And it wasn’t the first time Kitty had pulled a disappearing act. Besides, if he’d survived this long on his own then he was probably just fine.

That night, Graves went to bed with a certain unease roiling in his gut.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Graves had his breakfast and apparated to work, trying not to think too much of not seeing his cat. He had a fitful sleep.

By the time he returned home and started on dinner, Kitty was still nowhere in sight. That was when he allowed himself to feel a small twinge of concern, frowning as he looked at the window as though that small opening somehow offended him.

He shook his head, mentally berating himself for his ridiculous sentimentality. Most likely, the cat found another source of food, some other lonely human who also succumbed to his large, sad eyes.  Graves wasn’t going to start claiming ownership or anything. He never even gave him a proper name besides ‘Kitty’, for god’s sake.

Days passed. Mornings where he woke up and stopped pretending he wasn’t checking the kitchen window first thing. His weekends felt off-kilter without Kitty waking him up, tenderizing his belly and limbs by walking all over him.

 _It's fine_ , he reminded himself.

Sometimes at night, Graves thought he had heard yowls outside his window and the faint jingling of a bell. He chalked the former up to the usual night noises he managed to tune out before, and the latter to pure imagination. His sleep-deprived brain was conjuring up phantom sounds. Not that this meant he was worried, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

It took another two weeks for Graves to finally give in and admit to himself, _fine, dammit, yes,_ he was concerned.

He’d even go so far as to mount a search and rescue mission except he didn’t know the first step in doing that. The thing didn't even have a name. Was he just supposed to walk around the neighborhood calling out ‘here kitty, kitty’? That was fucking ridiculous.

He felt stupid enough as he walked the blocks around his apartment, looking behind every tree and trashcan, the streets quiet and dark at this late hour. He had half a thought to go back to the alleyway where he had first found the little beast and see if he might've returned to that spot when he heard a familiar mewl and the jingling of a bell.

He berated himself as he walked towards the noise, tampering down any false hope. _Familiar mewl_? All cats sounded alike, it wasn't as though his would sound like anything special in particular.

The soft cries were coming from a sewer drain opening in the ground, echoing off the stone and concrete. He cursed viciously and despite not even knowing if it was _his_ cat, he knew he couldn't just leave whatever poor creature was down there.

He gave a quick glance around the empty street before lifting the grate cover with a flick of his hand. Another gesture and something was floating out of the narrow opening- a squirming ball of fur. Something akin to relief washed over him as he was met with the sight of Kitty, drenched and smelling awful but _alive_.

Graves carefully wrapped Kitty in his scarf after gently looking him over, finding a nasty gash he could probably heal and what appeared to be a broken front paw he wasn't feeling quite as confident about.

“Where have you been?” Graves asked with no small amount of petulance as he tucked his little bundle close. “Got yourself into trouble again, I see. I thought we were past that kind of nonsense by now. What am I even going to do with you?”

He felt silly talking to the cat as he ducked into an alleyway to apparate home, but the overwhelming relief had him babbling at the little shivering mess he held against his chest.

Once back at the apartment, Graves took a second look at Kitty’s injuries and healed the gash without issue. But there still remained the broken front paw and he wasn't sure what to do about that.

Did Skele-Gro work on cats? Would that even be safe for them? Graves didn't dare risk it. It’d be the worst kind of irony to save Kitty from drowning in the gutters, only to accidentally maim him further by playing doctor. They would just have to go to the veterinarian in the morning to get the paw fixed. Kitty was also uncomfortably warm to the touch, almost certainly from a fever.

He bathed the cat to get rid of the matted muck and stench, trying to be as gentle as possible, knowing the cautionary tales of cats and their notorious hatred of water. But to his surprise, Kitty was calm as he was settled in the bowl of warm water, only staring up at him with round limpid eyes as Graves washed away the dirt and blood.

He wasn't sure if he should attribute the calmness to Kitty’s good behavior or whether the poor thing was simply too fatigued from the fever and pain to lash out.

He attempted to feed Kitty some dinner, frowning when the cat only took a couple of bites from his dish and limped away. No amount of coaxing would get him to eat any more and Graves could feel his concern mounting. Definitely sick then.

Knowing there wasn't much else he could do, Graves sighed and tucked the sickly little ball of fur into bed. He pulled the quilts tight around the cat, building a nest of blankets to keep him warm before climbing under the covers himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Graves was woken up the next morning by a beam of sunlight directly in his eyes and the uncomfortable feeling of being too warm. Groaning, he pushed the blankets away and waved a hand to close the curtains when his outflung arm caught on something behind him.

He froze, wand already in hand and hex on the tip of his tongue as he felt carefully around the other side of the bed, feeling a large lump beneath the covers.

He rolled over slowly, alarms blaring to life in his head as he was met with the sight of — a man?

 _What the actual fuck_?

No, a _boy_ , he corrected. Uncomfortably young. It was the first thing he registered as he raked his eyes down the prone form in his bed, which was curled up in a tight ball and still apparently fast asleep. The second thing that registered was that this boy was completely naked.

Graves recoiled and flung himself out of bed, wand pointed at the slumbering kid but unable to bring himself to hex someone so obviously young and vulnerable. Graves wasn’t _that_ cruel. Besides, the boy was still _asleep._ Although he had begun to stir after the commotion Graves made.

The boy blinked wide, dark eyes up at him from beneath a fringe of long curls and yawned, stretching a little before he froze, glancing from his own hands to Graves. His next actions were even more perplexing as he frantically pulled at the blankets to cover himself, as if waking up naked in Graves’ bed was shocking news to him, too.

There was a pained yelp as the kid’s arm got caught in the tangle of blankets and then Graves' third realization of the day came like a bucket of ice water down his front.

It couldn’t be. It wasn't possible. Or was it? _What the fuck was going on_?

Graves caught a glimpse of the kid’s left wrist, swollen and held at an odd angle, before it was hidden beneath the sheets, along with everything other than his eyes. They were dark with a feline tilt to the edges, a far cry from the pellucid paleness of the eyes of Graves' cat, but they felt achingly familiar.

But that couldn’t be. Graves had never met this kid before in his life.

“Don't move,” Graves warned with a low growl when the kid began to sit up slightly. His hand was curled in a white-knuckled grip around his wand as he fought to get his thoughts in order, away from the reeling realization that this _boy_ was once his _cat_.

Because that was the only conclusion. The boy had somehow managed to transfigure himself into an animal, but he was clearly not a registered Animagus. Graves knew the list of seventy-three currently residing in the United States by rote, and they were all _adults._

So that meant it was either accidental magic— Graves had never heard of cases in which magic manifested as animal transfiguration, not to mention the kid was far too old to be manifesting magic now— or the kid was a _spy._ The responsible thing to do was to turn him in at MACUSA to find out exactly what his motives were and why wasn’t he registered in the system.

Graves nodded to himself, decision made, when he noticed the pile of blankets was shaking and the eyes peeking out above them were glossy and wet. _Ah fuck_.

 _Morgana, Merlin, and Mercy Lewis_ help him but the boy was _crying_ and against his own better judgment, Graves lowered his wand and perched gingerly on the edge of the bed.

As he reached out a hand, the boy flinched back as though expecting to be struck. Graves settled for patting a knee through the sheets. “C’mon, darling, you know I won't hurt ya.”

The boy sniffled, hunching tighter into himself. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his uninjured hand across his eyes.

Graves' brows inched towards his hairline. “So you _do_ speak. Do you have a name?”

The boy hesitated, gnawing at his lip. Of their own accord, Graves’ eyes dropped to follow the movement. Then the boy sat up further, the sheet slipping to around his waist, and Graves’ gaze trailed down the newly revealed skin, snapping back up at the jingle of a bell.

The collar had magically stretched to accommodate its now human-wearer, dark leather a stark contrast against the pale throat. The picture made Graves’ mouth run dry.  

“Credence, sir,” the boy answered. “My name is Credence.”

Graves pushed his inappropriate thoughts away, as this was neither the time nor place. But looking at the boy— Credence— in the face didn’t help, either. He wasn't as young as Graves initially thought, but he still had a benign innocence to him. His dark curls gently framed his delicate features, cheeks flushed fever bright and lips slightly parted and petal pink. The kid— Credence was beautiful.

The situation was made worst when Credence crawled to his knees, unabashed of his own nudity as he leaned towards Graves. He had a familiar look in his eyes, one that Graves recognized from when Kitty would fish for pets. And even though he knew he shouldn’t, Graves was just as helpless to deny him now, threading fingers through the boy’s shoulder-length hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Credence let out a low sigh that might’ve been a purr if he were still in cat-form, but as it was now, it made heat pool in Graves’ gut instead.

 _You great idiot_ , Graves thought to himself. _Don’t throw away every bit of training and rational sense for a pretty face and some pitiful tears._

“What am I going to do with you, Credence?” Graves sighed, mumbling mostly to himself.

Wiping away the remainder of his tears, Credence pulled away, holding a stiff upper lip. There was a hidden strength in this pale wisp of a boy, and it made Graves perk up and pay attention.

“I can take care of myself, Mister Graves,” Credence stated calmly as though he wasn't lying naked in Graves' bed running hot with a fever and wincing from the pain of a broken wrist.

“You know who I am? Besides being the human who feeds you table scraps?”

Credence sniffed delicately. “I can read perfectly fine. What did you think I was doing when I sat on top of your mail?”

Graves gave him a dubious look and moved to stand, ignoring Credence’s whine of displeasure. He urged Credence off the bed too, tossing him one of his shirts to wear. It barely skimmed the top of Credence’s thighs and the sight had the heat simmering in Graves’ belly returning with a vengeance. He ignored the feeling and moved to the kitchen, leaving Credence to follow.

Graves was rummaging in his cabinets for the bottles of Skele-Gro and Pepper Up he knew he had somewhere in one of the drawers when he heard a faint jingling at his feet. He looked down to see Credence had turned back into the cat and was limping pathetically across the room. Graves sighed in exasperation and crossed the kitchen in three strides to scoop him up.

“ _Really_?” Graves demanded, feeling silly as always for talking to a cat even now, despite knowing there was a boy in there.

Credence responded by licking his chin.

Graves sighed again and settled the ridiculous creature onto a kitchen chair. “Turn back now,” he demanded. “I can give you something for your arm, now that I know you’re not _actually_ a cat.”

Graves almost wished he didn’t ask Credence to turn back when the fur faded away and the little body stretched and grew to form a human. A very naked human who was staring up at Graves with innocent eyes and flushed cheeks.

 _Not very shy now,_ Graves thought wryly. He summoned Credence’s discarded shirt from the bedroom and dropped it into the boy’s lap, resolutely not looking as it was pulled on again.

Feeling flustered, Graves returned to his frantic search for the potions before finally finding them in the back of the dish cabinet, only turning back to Credence after he’d finished measuring out the proper doses. He kept his gaze firmly on Credence’s face as he handed him each potion in turn, ignoring the long lines of the boy’s bare legs to make sure every drop of the Skele-Gro and Pepper Up was finished. Immediately, Credence’s ears started emitting steam, and then his wrist bones began stitching themselves back together in an unpleasant manner, although neither of these things appeared to bother Credence.

“Better?” Graves asked gruffly, still not quite looking at him.

Credence nodded with a smile, the bobbing of his head making the bell on his collar tinkle merrily.

“Does— does that always happen?” Graves asked, waving a hand to indicate Credence’s nudity.

The boy tilted his head slightly as though confused, but there was a mischievous edge tugging on his red lips.

“Are you always naked when you turn? Most Animagi manage to retain their clothing when they transform,” Graves added pointedly.

Credence shrugged, lifting one bony shoulder nonchalantly, the collar of the overlarge shirt slipping to reveal the pale lines of his collarbone. “It’s always been this way for me.”

Graves rubbed a hand over his face. _Merlin’s balls_.

Even with everything that had transpired, it was still only mid-morning. Since he was conveniently in the kitchen already, he turned away to spell them both some breakfast, as well as buy him some time to think.

Maybe it was Credence’s untrained magic or his lack of experience, or maybe it was Credence himself transforming nude on purpose, Graves would probably never know. Which brought him to the question as to why Credence wasn’t in school. He certainly looked to be about the age to be completing his final year or so at Ilvermorny, but from the guileless way Credence was blinking up at him, Graves didn’t think the boy would even know what that was. Yet he was obviously familiar with magic, barely reacting when Graves performed spells in front of him.

The best and most logical and _responsible_ thing to do, of course, would be to bring Credence in to MACUSA where they could find out everything they possibly could about the boy and the extent of his magical abilities.

But sitting across the dining table from Credence, who was digging eagerly into his plate of eggs, Graves found it near impossible to break the news to him.

It didn’t seem fair to suddenly spring this on the boy who, through no fault of his own, seemed oblivious of the seriousness of the situation. His home had become something of a safe haven for Credence, and it felt callous to rescind that offer just because it turned out Credence wasn’t really a cat.

If anything, the boy probably _was_ a stray of some sort.

“Credence,” Graves began. “Do you have a family?”

Pausing with a mouthful of food, Credence gazed up at him, the gesture so reminiscent of Kitty that Graves nearly did a doubletake. The boy continued chewing, shaking his head.

“So, where do you go during the day? When I’m not here.”

“Just out,” Credence mumbled. “I used to— there was a church that—” he shook his head, eyes squeezed shut against whatever memories were being dredged up. “I don’t have anyone. Anymore.”

Before he could fully parse out what was said, Graves suddenly found himself with a lapful of a very warm, very _human_ boy. Who wasn’t wearing anything underneath Graves’ shirt. “Credence!” he held his hands in the air, unsure of where it was even safe to touch. “You can’t do this!”

“Why not?” Credence nuzzled against Graves’ neck, breath warm. “You used to let me do this all the time.”

“When you were a _cat_!”

Credence lifted his head to look at him. “Do you want me to be a cat again?”

“No, don’t—,” Graves gripped him by the hips as if that could stop Credence from transforming if he really wanted to. “Just stay. Human.”

“Okay,” Credence smiled, already burying back into Graves’ neck. His next words were muffled, “Sometimes I can’t control it though.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” Graves sighed. “Look, don’t leave again. Not until I...figure something out.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not safe out there for you, Credence.” The image of bloody paws and raw wounds came unbidden to his mind, and he reflexively tightened his hold on the boy. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

After a beat, Credence acquiesced. “Alright.” And then he pressed closer, seeking warmth against Graves’ chest.

Graves stifled a grunt as the movement rubbed against his groin. This was a terrible idea, he could already tell.

 

* * *

 

 

Graves still fully intended to bring Credence in to MACUSA, where the boy would surely be poked and prodded and tested in numerous ways. But it also happened to be a saturday so, Graves rationalized, it would be best to just wait until monday.

Yes. Monday. For sure.

The first thing Graves did that morning was set up the spare bedroom for Credence.

“Oh,” Credence remarked upon standing in the doorway of his new room. He sounded less than delighted.

Graves cleared his throat. “Seeing as how you don’t really fit on my pillow anymore.”

“I can still fit in your bed.”

Credence’s casual lack of boundaries made Graves doubt he could hold onto his sanity until monday. Perhaps it was because the boy had stayed in his transformed state for such long periods of time that he was now more beast than man.

Although Graves found it difficult to apply either of those terms to Credence, who was once again Kitty and curled up asleep, a black speck on the middle cushion of the massive couch.

There was no rhyme or reason for how Credence decided what form to take at any particular moment. One second he’d be dozing on the armrest of the wingback, tail draped over the seat, and the next Graves would hear a thump as Credence landed on the floor, having popped back into human form mid-dream.

And the nudity. The goddamn nudity.

It was only the second day of their sudden cohabitation, but Graves was already counting down the hours until the boy was out of his hair. Last night he’d tried to follow Graves into his room, slinking past his heels and hopping onto his bed before Graves caught sight of the furball.

“You have your own room, Credence,” Graves scolded, hands on his hips. “Go use it.”

The cat tilted his head, eyes pale once more.

“I know you understand me—” Graves cut himself off before he could add ‘ _you little shit_ ’. “Go now or I’ll move you there myself.”

_Mmmrpphh._

With a frustrated growl, Graves scooped the cat into his arms, marching them across the hall and all but flinging Credence into the spare bedroom. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing a stern finger at the little beast, whose only reaction was to start cleaning his paws, as if Graves was the one being unreasonable.

Sunday was usually a quiet day of rest for Graves, who preferred to spend it catching up on the weekend edition of The New York Ghost with his feet up on the coffee table. Today he was practically hiding behind the front page, attempting to block the sight of Credence on the couch across from him.

Credence still hadn’t gotten the hang of keeping his clothes on when transforming, not that he seemed concerned about clothing in general. Graves never knew what to expect when he looked over so...he’d just stopped looking over.

The jingle of a bell grew louder and Graves ducked further behind his newspaper. He was relieved when it was Kitty who leapt up on the seat besides him, tail swishing as he walked onto Graves’ lap as if he had every right to do so.

“You’re not actually a cat, you know,” Graves pointed out even as he started stroking a hand along Credence’s back.

But it was hard to resist the warm, purring ball of fur, so Graves gave in. They stayed like that for a long while, Graves silently reading as he petted the dozing lump in his lap. It was almost normal, if one could ignore the entire unregistered Animagus part of the situation.

Unfortunately, Graves couldn’t. He also couldn’t ignore the gnawing dread in his gut at the thought of handing Credence over to MACUSA tomorrow. He needed to break the news to Credence, and soon.

With the tinkling of a bell as his only warning, Graves suddenly found himself with a lapful of boy, newspaper knocked out of his lax grip. “Credence, we talked about this,” Graves admonished. At least the boy had managed to keep his shirt on this time.

“Sorry,” Credence mumbled through a yawn. His too-long sleeve covered his hand as he used it to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Are you upset?”

“No. Yes. It’s just,” Graves threw his hands up. “I thought we agreed on certain boundaries--”

“No, not that,” Credence blinked at him, altogether too awake all of a sudden. “Something else is upsetting you.”

Now would be the perfect opportunity to bring up the plans for tomorrow. _Tell him_ , Graves screamed internally.

But just then Credence had placed his palms on Graves’ chest exactly like he would’ve done as Kitty, except it felt vastly less appropriate now. Tousled locks framed his youthful face, a pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “What is it, Mister Graves?”

Graves opened his mouth and nothing came out. He couldn’t think past how well Credence fit in his lap, how there was only one thin layer of fabric separating them because of course, Credence forgot to wear underclothes again. How smooth and warm Credence’s thighs were, and when had Graves started touching them?

In the long silence, Credence had started squirming and the friction was enough to make Graves breathe harshly through his nose.

“Mister Graves?” Credence asked again, this time with dark, half-lidded eyes and a flush high on his cheeks.

 _Oh, christ._ Graves sprang to his feet, throwing Credence off to the side where he landed in a confused heap on the couch.

“Excuse me,” Graves gritted out, trying to maintain his composure as he sprinted for the bathroom.

Once behind the closed door, he shoved his hand down the front of his pants, head tipping back as he gripped his quickly hardening length.

He bit his lip to muffle his groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the fantasies he’d been avoiding ever since he first saw Credence in his bed. Fantasies like ripping open the front of the boy’s shirt, buttons flying as his smooth chest would be exposed. Spreading pale thighs and slotting between them. Fucking into his tight, wet heat, that fucking bell jingling with every thrust.

Braced against the door lest his knees give out, Graves came in spurts over his own hand, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Still panting, fingers coated in his sticky mess, Graves gave another groan, this time in frustration.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning found Graves frozen outside the door to the spare bedroom, glaring a hole through its wooden surface.

After his...session in the bathroom yesterday, Graves had somehow managed to avoid the only other occupant in the two-bedroom apartment until now. He’d even skipped dinner, although he left a plate of food out for Credence on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t that different from when Graves still thought the boy was a cat, actually.

Except for one big, obvious difference staring him in the face. Graves had finally worked up the fortitude to open the door, intending to break the news and drag Credence to MACUSA in one fell swoop, when the sight inside made his breath catch.

Credence was sprawled inelegantly on top of the covers, pillows pushed to the floor from when he undoubtedly transformed mid-slumber, a habit Graves was never privy to before Credence started staying the night. He was also wearing as much clothes as he did in cat form, which was to say none, saved for the collar around his neck.

The boy’s chest rose and fell evenly in sleep, his dark hair fanned out on white sheets. Graves’ eyes traveled down the slender lines of his body, past his trim waist, landing between splayed thighs. Credence’s cock was lying on his taut stomach, more than half-hard from morning arousal.

For all his past injuries, Credence had no scars. Just miles of pale skin begging to be marked. As if hearing his thoughts, Credence gave a soft moan, arching the slightest bit off the mattress.

Graves nearly tripped over his own shoes backing out of the room, throwing out a muffling charm at the last second as he accidentally slammed the door shut. He didn’t stay to make sure Credence hadn’t awoken, too busy rushing to the bathroom to take care of his uncomfortably tight trousers.

That was the one big, obvious difference between Credence the boy and Credence the cat, Graves thought as he jerked himself roughly for the second time in as many days: he didn’t want to fuck the cat.

 

* * *

 

It was inappropriate. Unprofessional. And so very embarrassing.

But Graves couldn’t face Credence so soon after he’d touched himself to the image of the boy. Instead, he’d scurried past the spare bedroom, head down, and went straight out the front door to work.

The worst part was that he didn’t feel particularly burdened by the secret he harbored. If anything, it was comforting to go through another day at the office as usual. His home situation was so strange that it felt like a novelty to be in a place where casual nudity was _not_ the norm.

As he headed home that night, he was at once filled with dread and anticipation.

He wasn’t sure what to expect as he dropped into his living room, but he was relieved when he was greeted by excited mewling, and an over-eager ball of fluff winding around his legs. As soon as he put down his briefcase and floated his coat and scarf to the closet, sharp pin-pricks dug into his thigh as Credence attempted to climb him like a tree.

“Ow, Credence, stop that,” he grumbled, words softened as he bent down to scoop the cat into his arms. “Be a good kitty. Or uh, boy.”

As if on cue, Credence popped into his human form, long legs wrapped around Graves’ waist. The sudden additional weight caused Graves to stumble back, and they fell into a tangle of limbs on the couch, Graves flat on his back.

“Credence, no, bad!”

The berating had no effect on Credence, who sat on top of Graves, straddling his hips. He rubbed his face against Graves’ jaw, nuzzling his neck. “I missed you.”

His lips ghosted against Graves’ skin as Graves glared up at the ceiling, repressing a shiver.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Credence sighed, squirming closer, if that was even possible. In this position, the oversized-shirt hid nothing, exposing his backside to the room at large.

Graves was only going to cover him up again, or maybe push him off entirely, but then his hand brushed across warm, smooth skin. And he couldn’t help chasing it, he let his broad palms stroke from the back of Credence’s thighs to his ass, reflexively grabbing two handfuls.  
  
Credence made a happy noise in the back of his throat, always thrilled to be touched no matter what form he took. Face still buried in Graves’ neck, he rolled his hips, and the sounds he was making started to take on a different kind of tone.  
  
It would be so easy to just _give in_ and for a few minutes that was exactly what Graves did. Lazy thrusts of his hips that brought their hardening lengths together, the play of muscles beneath Graves’ hands, Credence’s soft moans in his ear. It would've been even easier for Graves to flip them over, spread the boy out against the couch cushions and just _take him_.

“Fuck, shit,” Graves finally shoved Credence off, leaping to his feet with as much dignity as he could with the obvious bulge in his trousers.  
  
Credence sat up, his erection even more obvious than Graves’, tenting the bottom hem of his shirt. “Why’d you stop?” he whined.  
  
“Do you even know what you’re doing, Credence?”

“Yes,” Credence swallowed. “No. Maybe.”  
  
“How old are you even?”  
  
“Old enough,” the boy declared.

“Fuck,” Graves ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not even the biggest problem. You—” he turned around a few times, trying to stop himself from yelling. “You’re an unregistered Animagus. Clearly never properly educated, so probably not registered anywhere, as anything. And now you’re living in my apartment when I should’ve turned you in today—”

“Turn me in?” Credence asked, his voice small. He peered out from behind his knees tucked to his chest. “You don’t want me anymore?”

Whatever Graves was going to say died in his throat as Credence sniffled, blinking back tears.

“Hey, don’t--” Graves sat down besides the boy, who immediately listed into him, tucking himself against Graves’ side. “I’m not throwing you out. But I can’t just… keep you. It’s not as simple as that.”

Credence crawled into Graves’ lap and in his pitiful state, Graves let him. “Please, I just want to stay with you.”

The responsible part of Graves knew that as much as he wanted to, and _god_ did he want to, it just wasn’t possible.

A traitorous part of him whispered that maybe it was. Maybe it was that simple. Because what was the alternative? To drag Credence kicking and screaming into the bowels of MACUSA to be interrogated?

No. The poor, sweet boy. He probably wouldn’t even put up a fight. He seemed to trust Graves implicitly and if Graves were to truly insist that this would be for the best, Credence would go willingly.    

That only made it worse. To be quite honest, Graves wasn’t sure anymore that this was the best course of action. If MACUSA was incompetent enough to overlook the birth of a wizard, and one who was an Animagus at that, then who was to say they wouldn’t mishandle dealing with their mistake afterwards?

Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time Graves cleaned up a mess made by government idiots. He would just have to figure something out.

His hands had been running up and down Credence’s spine in a soothing manner, and he dropped them now to the boy’s waist, pulling him close in a hug. “I’ll figure something out. It’ll be okay.”

Credence clung to him for a moment before pulling back, eyes red-rimmed but happier than before. Then he leaned in, slow enough for Graves to stop him if he wanted to.

But Graves didn’t want to. The lips pressed against his were soft, tentative. They parted easily under the slightest suggestion, and Graves licked his way into the boy’s sweet, pink mouth. He wondered if the rest of him tasted just as sweet.

When Credence pulled back again he was flushed and smiling shyly. “Thank you, Mister Graves,” he said breathlessly.

The kiss nearly unwound all of Graves' tightly coiled self-control. But he had to be responsible and so he gently shifted Credence away before it could go any further. He pressed a final chaste kiss to Credence’s forehead and then his cheeks, returning the bright smile Credence beamed at him with something milder, but no less joyous all the same.

Graves was so very fucked.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ditto to this chapter. @ao3 - let us add multiple authors to chapters pls

 

Tuesday passed much the same way, then Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday, and there went the week. Each day was the same, with Graves leaving for work, but every morning, Credence was there to meet him at the door, pressing a goodbye kiss to his lips as he stood on tiptoes and another kiss hello when he returned in the evenings.

It continued for nearly almost a month and Graves could almost admit, if only just to himself, that he might’ve grown slightly attached to Credence. It hurt every time he thought of returning to his apartment to find it empty and devoid of the vitality and color and _excitement_ Credence brought into his otherwise monotonous life.

Graves knew it was wrong, that he should be the responsible adult, but he did nothing to stop the kisses each time. He was powerless against Credence when the boy pressed himself along Graves' front, smiling shyly as he closed the distance between them. It took all of Graves' self restraint not to grab the boy and pull him close each time, really ravage him until they were both breathless and wanting.

Graves started spending a lot of time in the bathroom, rubbing himself raw with his fist pressed to his mouth to contain his moans, knowing Credence was just in the next room.

He was doing fine with just his hand and small kisses but Graves only had so much self control before he finally snapped.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the many times Graves had warned Credence against transfiguring back into a human without his clothing, he wasn't sure if Credence still wasn't entirely sure how to do so, or if he was transfiguring nude on purpose. Graves suspected it was the latter.

Graves was trying to read his evening newspaper, but his eyes and mind were wandering, agitation sparking and igniting in the back of his mind until he could finally ignore it no longer and pushed the papers aside. He pressed his hand to his temples and tried to ignore the way the cat was stretched out on the couch, yawning slightly, as he knew, just _knew_ , Credence was going to transform back at any given second.

There was a soft jingle of the belled collar, and though he told himself not to look, Graves still found himself turning his head, gaze drawn towards the sound. Credence was draped along the length of the couch, nude, and so very pale compared to the cat’s usual dark fur.

Graves couldn't help the way his gaze traveled along the length of the boy’s spine, drawn irrevocably towards the soft curve of his pert backside. The burn of desire flared low in his belly and Graves swallowed hard, trying to will himself to look away.

“Mister Graves…” Credence whined, “I’m tired. Will you carry me to bed?”

“What's wrong with your legs, Credence?” Graves gritted out, pressing his hand harder against his temple.

“Nothing,” Credence replied, sighing as he rolled over onto his back. “But I'm _so_ tired, they feel wobbly,” he said. The end of his sentence tapered off into a moan as he stretched along the couch, arching his back as he raised his arms above his head.

Graves was about to ask what exactly Credence was tired _from_ , when his gaze dropped from the boy’s face down to the soft curve of his cock where it laid against his leg and he wanted to _punch something_. He could feel himself getting hard as Credence’s bell tinkled, the merry sound setting off some kind of Pavlovian response until he was straining against the seam of his pants, nails digging crescents into his palms.

He quickly got to his feet and was halfway down the hallway, shaking his head as firmly at he could, frantically trying to keep the images flashing through his mind from lingering.

But it was far too late.

Too many visits to the bathroom and too many long showers with only his hand for relief had pushed Graves to his breaking point. He was in so, _so_ much trouble.

Before he could say ‘no’ with believable conviction, Credence was padding after him, bell jingling. He had turned back into the little ball of black fluff and was mewing with a heartbreaking softness as he twined around Graves' legs, nearly tripping him.

“All right, all right,” Graves grouched.

Credence started nuzzling against his hands as soon as Graves scooped him up, purring like an automotive engine.

Once inside the boy’s makeshift room, Graves pulled back the covers and deposited the cat onto the bed. “Good night, Credence.”

He was turning to leave when a loud yowl had him looking back. Credence was on top of the covers now, staring at him as he gave another plaintive meow.

Graves sighed. The goodnight kiss was another indulgence Graves knew he should’ve never agreed to but clearly, he had some trouble denying Credence anything. “Yes, okay. Fine.”

He leaned down to place a quick peck to the soft tuft of fur between the cat’s ears, and barely closed his eyes when he heard the soft _pop_. His mouth met smooth skin and he almost fell backwards when he realized Credence had tricked him, transforming back so that he was kissing his forehead. Graves shifted to move away but the hand on the back of his neck was firm, holding him in place as the boy’s mouth moved to his own.

“ _Credence!_ ” His objection was muffled by the lips against his.

“Please, Mister Graves,” Credence breathed out in between kisses. “Stay.”

“I can’t….” Graves' heart was already pounding in his chest as he pulled back. His hand shook as he reached down to stroke back the boy’s wild bangs from his forehead.

The boy was so beautiful. And so receptive to his touch. Graves was only a man, and a man could only resist temptation for so long.

“You’ve hugged me before.… I just want you to do the same, with less clothing.”

Despite the dark eyes peering guilelessly up at him from beneath long lashes, Graves suspected Credence knew exactly what he was asking for.

“Are you going to stop torturing me with this, this walking around naked _nonsense_?”

Graves let his hand trail down the side of the boy’s face, past the sharp angle of his jaw, the side of his neck where the collar fit nicely, to the edge of his collarbone and beyond.

“Of course,” Credence replied softly. “I just didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Graves' gaze snapped up to Credence’s face, where there was a splash of color on pale cheeks. “You already have it.”

“You’ve just been so wonderful to me, Mister Graves.” Credence shifted beneath him, causing Graves’ hand, which had been resting on Credence’s stomach, to dip lower. “I didn’t know what to do… to show my appreciation.”

“You don’t owe me anything for taking care of you. It’s been... an adventure having you around.”

The hand on Graves' neck slipped down to grasp at his jacket collar, tugging him closer. The pull was so sudden that Graves nearly unbalanced, catching himself with his hands on the bed, bracketing Credence between his arms.

He stared down at the boy, who was still blushing, and he couldn’t help touching him more, running his hands along Credence’s body, his skin addictingly soft and smooth beneath his hands. Credence shivered slightly as Graves' fingers drifted over his bare chest and down past his ribcage, along the curve of his hips, daringly close to the impressive erection resting against a pale thigh.

“M-mister Graves… _please_. Will you kiss me again?”

How could Graves refuse such a polite request?

He’d certainly been trying, but the final vestiges of his self control shattered when Credence dragged him down to crash their lips together. The second his slim body arched up against Graves, he felt his arousal choke him with the hasty vehemence with which it flared back to life. He was _done_ holding back.

“My sweet boy…” he gasped. He moved to kiss down Credence’s neck, brushing against the brown leather of the collar, stark against the pale length of his boy’s neck. He resisted the urge to flick at the bell, nipping occasionally to mar the perfect creamy skin, leaving reddened evidence of his touch.

“Please….” The boy probably didn’t know what he was asking for, but by the way he ground his hardened cock up against Graves' leg told him everything he needed to know.

“Yes, sweetie, I’ve got you.”

Credence shivered beneath him at the sound of the endearment, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed pink as he stared up at Graves.

Graves squeezed Credence’s hip and then reached lower, between his legs to wrap fingers around the boy’s cock, rubbing his thumb over the slippery head as he relished the hot thickness of it. His own erection strained against the fabric of his slacks, but he wasn’t about to ignore Credence in favor of himself. He’d already spent plenty of time indulging his own perpetual arousal. It was time to lavish his boy with attention, now that he can finally touch.

“Mister Graves!” Credence’s eyes rolled back and he shuddered a breath as Graves felt wetness slick his hand.

Graves bit his lip to keep from chuckling. “Goodness, you’re a sensitive little thing aren’t you?”

“I’m s-sorry… it just felt so good.” The boy was blinking back tears, and Graves smiled at him, running his hand soothingly along his chest as he would when Credence was in his cat form.

“Don’t apologize,” Graves said, his smile slowly shifting into a smirk. “Let me clean you up.”

Graves kissed down the boy’s stomach to where his cock was now soft between his legs, licking up the mess there until the blush was spreading down Credence’s neck and chest.

Credence whined, high and needy.

Graves chuckled, humming against his boy’s skin and pressing a chaste close-mouthed kiss to the head of Credence’s cock, enjoying the jump of surprise and involuntary whimper that provoked.

“But, you, what about you, Mister Graves?” Credence asked tentatively, still bashful even as he was spread out beneath Graves, flushed pink from his orgasm. His eyes were wide as he blinked slowly, gaze locked onto Graves' obscenely tented crotch.

“We can do whatever you’d like,” Graves rasped.

Short of bringing his boy’s face down to press against his groin and to see those soft red lips wrapped around his cock, there wasn’t anything he really needed for him to do. Touching him in any capacity was enough for the moment.

But Credence seemed to be curious, more so than usual. So when he pressed a hand to Graves' shoulder, he moved with him, letting the boy push him back onto the bed. He watched silently as Credence climbed carefully to straddle his legs before reaching down to undo his slacks, button and zipper opening easily beneath his fingers. With flushed skin and mussed hair and the leather and silver bell gleaming at his neck, plush lips swollen red from kisses, Credence was a sight to behold.

God, Graves was so lucky.

He couldn’t help his hips from bucking up the second Credence’s hand made contact with the bare skin of his cock. The groan ripped from his throat was just as involuntary, and the excited gleam in his boy’s eyes only served to make Graves even harder.

He tried his best to think about anything but the image of Credence’s slim naked form bent over for him, exposing his pert ass and pink rimmed hole, all for Graves’ taking. He didn’t want to rush or push the boy into anything he wasn’t ready for, but god, he’d wanted him for far too long.

“May I?” Credence asked, peering up at Graves through his lashes. Graves swallowed hard.

Credence had shifted down at some point while Graves had been distracted, fisting his hands in the sheets to keep from giving in to the urge to tangle his fingers through his boy’s hair and tightening his grip until it hurt. And now Credence’s pretty mouth was poised right above the head of his cock.

“Ungh… _yes_.”

Credence’s tongue darted out to swipe small kittenish licks over the head of Graves’ aching cock, and he had to mentally recite the clauses of Rappaport’s Law to keep from coming in ten seconds flat like a teenager. When Credence took him deeper into his hot mouth, white sparks exploded behind his eyes, and all restraint faded away as he thrusted up slightly, begging forgiveness when he felt his boy choke and cough around him, dark eyes gone watery.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” He reached down to swipe a reassuring thumb along the edge of Credence’s jaw, pressing slightly where he could feel his cock push against the inside of his boy’s cheek. “Don’t stop.”

Credence hummed a bit, cautiously rubbing his tongue against the underside of Graves' cock while swallowing around him, hand stroking over what he couldn’t fit into his mouth.

His orgasm was building and all too soon, he was forced to tug at Credence’s hair. At first, Credence wouldn’t budge, eager lips still wrapped around Graves, but with a groan, and a harsher tightening of his fingers in the boy’s hair, he managed to pull Credence away from his cock in the knick of time. He only just managed to keep from spilling when Credence looked up at him balefully, resentful that he wasn’t allowed to bring Graves to completion.

“ _Fuck_ …” Graves muttered, tipping his head back into the pillows. He was almost certain he would come if he so much as _looked_ at Credence.

The boy climbed up to curl against Graves’ side, heartbeat pounding fast beneath Graves' hand resting on his back.

“Why did you make me stop? I wanted to taste you.”

 _God help him_.

The boy was already hard again, rutting gently into Graves’ thigh.

“Lie on your stomach for me, hmm?” Graves sat up, stripping off his clothes and tossing them to the side as Credence did as instructed. “And spread your legs.”

“L-like this?” Credence was peeking back over his shoulder.

“Perfect,” Graves leaned down to place an open mouthed kiss at the base of the boy’s spine, massaging the meat of his ass a bit before spreading him.

As he moved lower, licking the rim before dipping into the tight ring of muscle, Credence started to whimper. Then he reached underneath, grazing a hand over the dripping cock trapped against the sheets.

“Ungh… please….”

“Shh, my boy. Just relax.”

Graves pressed deeper, tongue delving past the tense muscle as his hand stroked over his boy’s cock, Credence’s thighs flexing at the sensations.

When Graves pulled back to dip a finger inside, he heard Credence’s breathing catch in a high reedy gasp. Encouraged, Graves added another finger after a minute while his other hand stroked Credence’s length, smearing precum around the head. Just before he thought he’d found the right spot with his fingers inside of Credence, he dropped his hand from his boy’s cock, relishing the whine that escaped him.

Credence was reduced to gasping moans as he rutted into the mattress frantically when Graves curved the fingers still inside him and spread him apart with his tongue. It took but a few more seconds for a full body shiver to wrack through that slim frame as Credence came for a second time, shuddering beneath Graves as he gasped his name.

Graves pressed open-mouthed kisses along Credence’s spine, waiting for the boy to catch his breath.

After another minute, Credence hummed and turned over to loop his arms around Graves’ neck. “What about you?” he asked shyly as he trailed his fingers along the broad line of Graves’ shoulder.

His neglected cock hung heavy between his thighs. Graves knew what he wanted but… “What would you like to do? We can do anything you like.”

After a pause, Credence looked away. “I want you to put your cock in me, like you did with your fingers,” his voice was a hushed whisper, and Graves felt his stomach clench.

“You… want that?”

Credence just nodded and shifted infinitesimally closer. He trailed a hand innocently down Graves' bare chest, grazing his nipple, dipping to just above his aching cock.

“I liked when you touched me… _there_.”

Graves smiled and stroked a hand through his boy’s hair, tugging gently. He pressed a kiss against Credence’s neck and leaned in close to whisper against his ear. “You mean, when I fingered you open and made you come on my tongue?”

Credence moaned softly and arched up against him, his palm splayed flat over Graves' stomach, “Yes.”

He pressed his thumb over Credence’s plump bottom lip, before slipping inside part of the way. Credence's tongue flicked against the pad of it, adding a hint of teeth as he dragged his lips along the length of the finger, making Graves’ cock twitch with interest.

“Please…” Credence moaned.

Graves sat back on his haunches, pushing Credence’s knees to his chest, nearly bending him in half. “Stay. I want to look at you.”

Loose-limbed from his last orgasm, Credence accepted the first finger easily. Graves grabbed a bottle of oil from the nightstand, dribbling some onto his pink-rimmed hole before adding another digit.

“Mm…” Credence’s eyes fluttered shut as Graves scissored him opened, thumb occasionally brushing the smooth skin beneath his balls. “That feels good.”

Graves brought his other hand back to slick up his cock as Credence shifted his legs to wrap around Graves' waist, urging him closer.

By the time he’d gotten to three fingers, Credence was squirming and begging for more without a word. The only sounds he could make were small hiccoughing breaths and soft whimpers that fell steadily from his lips.

Graves was fresh out of patience when Credence started thrusting down on his fingers and he quickly removed them to press his cock against his entrance. Pressing inside of the tight heat of the boy was unbearably wonderful torture, the sort that he’d been dreaming of for weeks but hadn't dared to admit to himself. He leaned down low, kissing Credence with the fervent hunger.

Graves’ hips snapped back in again after an outward thrust and he swore he saw stars from the drag of friction. His hands moved down to grip at his Credence's hips atop where the boy’s legs braced at his sides, fingers curling possessively around the sharp bracket of bone. The sight of his boy’s gorgeous cock hard and curved and dripping against his stomach nearly had Graves unraveled.

Credence wasn’t crying but it was a near thing, so Graves reached one hand up to cup the side of Credence’s face, a firm reassurance he was there, safe and held, as he let his orgasm overtake him.

“Come on, sweetie, come on,” he managed to pant out, his breath hot against Credence’s neck, lips just barely kissing the cool leather of the collar, and then the boy came with a cry as he spilled into Graves' hand.

Graves followed soon after, remaining inside Credence as he came with a grunt, heart thundering in his chest. He carefully pulled back after a few moments and fell to the bed beside Credence, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist. His hand trailed down to where Credence was still wet and open, smearing the come steadily trickling from his boy into the skin of his thigh.

Credence shuddered against him, breaths still coming shallow pants.

They lied there like that, tangled up in each other, for a long while. Graves was drifting off when the tinkle of a bell had him cracking an eye opened, just in time to catch Credence rolling onto to his side to face him.

“You know,” Graves murmured. “You don’t have to wear that anymore.”

Credence’s hand came up to the collar, fingering the worn leather strap. “I want to.”

A flare of possessiveness sparked in his gut, and Graves pulled Credence closer by the back of his neck, devouring his mouth in a kiss.

Credence pulled back just enough, brushing their lips together with every word, “Are you still going to send me away?”

The thought of coming home to an empty apartment again, returning to the way things were before Credence came into his life, was almost too much for Graves to bear. He clutched the boy to his chest, sighing, “No.”

“Promise?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I was ever going to. Not really.” He dropped a kiss against Credence’s soft locks. “I could never.”

Credence snuggled closer, muffled by skin. “Thank you, Mister Graves.”

“I think you should call me Percival.”

Credence popped his head up, eyes bright. “Okay, Percival,” he purred, dragging the syllables of Graves’ name out in a playful sigh.

The movement made the bell jingle again and Graves’ gaze snapped to it, like a moth drawn to flames. Credence shifted on the pillow and it sounded again. “You do that on purpose, don’t you?”

Credence pressed his lips together, hiding a smile, which was answer enough.

“Come here,” Graves growled, rolling on top of Credence to kiss the smile off his face, swallowing up his giggles.   

**Author's Note:**

> hit us up on tumblr [@accio-graves](http://accio-graves.tumblr.com/) (main [@jeahtastic](http://jeahtastic.tumblr.com/)) , [@pineapplebread](http://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/) , [@sozdanie-gryazi-eternal](http://soz-scatterbrained-eternally.tumblr.com/) <3


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